My Lazy Friend
by Nutty Adams
Summary: Short ShikaTema one-shot. Shikamaru and Temari are best friends. Kind of. Today, he's taking her to the beach in cold weather. Slight romance at the end, please spare a minute to read!


I had to write a story at school based on a given photograph, and I came up with this story. The characters I ended up writing reminded me a lot of Shikamaru and Temari (I fixed some of it here to make it relate to them more), so here it is.

It's a short one-shot, the kind that's out there numbering in the thousands. But at least it's grammatically correct. Hopefully. And I don't use Microsoft Word thesaurus and randomly insert in words I don't know because I think they sound better.

I do not own Shikamaru or Temari. Pity. I would do away with all the little, frustrating _suggestiveness _between them and just let their hormones take charge...

* * *

My Lazy Friend

Shikamaru is quite possibly the laziest guy I know. (Correction: He _is _the laziest person I've ever known.) I have never known him to exert himself for anything. Unfortunately, he is also my best friend.

I don't know why that is. We are literally opposites. He lacks any sort of motivation, and he doesn't have a competitive bone in his body. I can't sit still, and I hate to lose to anyone. His lethargy always irks me to no end, and he always finds me troublesome. It's a wonder we can even stand the sight of each other.

Even now, I glare at him, hands on hips, my exasperation rising exponentially by the second. "So you don't want to go watch a movie…or play basketball…or go into town… What _do _you want to do?" I throw my hands up in the air. "What do you _ever _want to do?"

Shikamaru has a tiny frown on his face, and I know I am getting on his nerves. I take some pleasure in knowing that I am at least causing him a fraction of the frustration he is inflicting on me.

"Let's go to the beach, Temari."

I stare at him. "What? It's not even summer yet!" I wait for him to understand the absurdity of his proposition.

Obviously, I have underestimated the true thickness of his skull, because he doesn't. Instead, he is looking out into the distance again, and I don't even know if my words are reaching him.

I try again. "What, you're too lazy to drive into town, but you're willing to drive to the beach?"

He, that mind-numbingly annoying jerk, just shrugs and looks down at me.

I open my mouth, ready to unleash the full might of my fury upon him, when I suddenly notice: his eyes are more animated than I've seen them be in the last few weeks. He's more excited about this idea than he has been in a long time. I'm not sure why that is, but I feel myself relent nevertheless.

"Fine."

Without another word, I march over to Shikamaru's beaten up, ancient blue truck. I'm not sure why he still keeps the hunk of metallic junk around, although he did mention once that he finds it too troublesome to go about buying another car.

The door creaks as I open it, but I ignore it as I jump into the passenger's seat.

Shikamaru climbs into the driver's seat, starts the ignition, and backs out of the driveway.

"You do realize we're not bringing anything beach-worthy, right?"

He shrugs again, too lazy to respond.

I mumble some biting sarcastic comment—he pretends not to hear—and lean back into the seat, sinking into a sullen silence. It's times like these that I marvel at my patience for having put up with this guy for so long.

* * *

I wake up with a start. Did I fall asleep? I glance at my watch, and I see that I have been sleeping for the past hour or so. I notice the car has stopped, and Shikamaru is looking at me. He must have woken me up. 

I peer outside. "This isn't the beach," I point out, just in case this small detail had failed to escape my friend. (It wouldn't surprise me to find that it had.)

Shikamaru rolls his eyes. "I know. It's a rest stop off the highway. Kind of. It has a nice scenic view."

I crane my neck to study the environment more carefully. Sure enough, we seem to have stopped on a small platform of rough gravel that juts out of the top of a cliff. It looks out to a view of dusty, gently rolling valleys and the occasional blooming greenery down below. We must have traveled further into the interior of the lands, rather than towards the coast. The landscape is somewhat unfamiliar to me, but strangely enough, I feel a sense of familiarity with this arid desert.

I have to admit, it _is _a pretty nice view.

"Are we even going to the beach?" I ask.

"No." He kicks the door open. "Come on."

I watch him as he walks around to the front of the car and lies down on the hood. His upper body covers the window as he shoves his hands into his pockets. His black ponytail is crushed haphazardly on the glass even as I watch from the inside.

_What is that idiot doing? _I stare at him in bewilderment.

I have known this guy for over five years, but he remains as eccentric and infuriatingly esoteric as ever. There is a possibility, I remind myself, that this is exactly the reason I still hang out with this lazy ass; he's like a giant logic puzzle, or some mystery novel, just waiting to be solved. I refuse to give up on figuring him out one day, because I cannot bear to be beaten in anything by this dolt.

Sighing, I open my side of the door and climb out. I join him, lying down next to him on the hood of the car. The car is still warm from the trip, but rather than burning me, it keeps me warm from the slightly chilly air.

Shikamaru doesn't move or say anything. He is staring up at the clouds, which half-heartedly cover the sky with their amorphous bodies.

"So what _were_ we going to do at the beach?"

He shrugs yet again. But before I can berate him angrily, he actually gives me a verbal reply. "Cloud gazing."

I blow up anyway. "_What?!_" I rage. "You can do that anywhere, anytime!"

He doesn't even bother to look down at me. "Well, when's the last time you went cloud gazing?"

"..." Of course I have never had the patience to do such a thing. I also have no idea how that explains why he felt the need to go to the beach to stare at the clouds, which, as far as I know, exist practically everywhere.

We must have been on the same brainwaves, because he responds to my thoughts anyway. "I wanted it to be memorable."

_Why would you want it to be memorable? _I want to ask. But just as I open my mouth, I feel him sneak his hand over and entwine his fingers around mine.

The words die in my throat, and we stay there, in silent peace, until the warmth of the car fades away into the evening.

LA FIN  
(that's French for THE END)

* * *

Spare twenty seconds and type out a quick review! 

Flames are welcome, as long as they're accompanied by coherent criticisms. And as long as it's not just an angry brainless rant against the pairing itself. I love this couple.

-Adams


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